


there is a design, an alignment

by irnan



Category: Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 09:25:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irnan/pseuds/irnan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick's just had brain surgery. No wonder it hurts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	there is a design, an alignment

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Mumford & Sons. Takes place during Batman and Robin v1 #16.

Dick’s head hurts. It’s a tight strip of pain, impossible to fight past, even if he wanted to. He’s in the dark, in the warm.

Pain or no, he kinda likes it here. It’s peaceful.

*********

He’s drugged up. He can’t get his eyes open. His eyelashes feel crusted together. Something’s beeping, which his head _really_ doesn’t like. He’d rather sleep, anyway.

*********

There’s pressure on his hand. Well, actually, there’s pressure on his whole lower arm. His head’s still painful, but the pressure on his arm feels more acute.

Dick forces his eyes open. Rolling his head on the pillow is excruciating, and at first his eyes won’t focus. He blinks furiously, and finally succeeds.

Damian’s sitting in a chair by Dick’s bed. His upper body is leaning forwards and sideways, having mostly collapsed on the bare couple inches of bed between Dick’s side and the edge of the mattress. He’s lying on Dick’s arm, fast asleep.

_Even when he’s asleep he’s a pain in my something_. Dick wants to smile but he’s not sure he’s got the energy. He certainly doesn’t have what it takes to move his arm out from under Dami.

He tries thinking back to how the hell he got here, but it’s a little blurry – Dr Hurt, and the Manor – and holy Mary mother of God, his head hurts. Dick gives it up as a lost cause; besides, it’s clear he’s not leaving the bed for a good while.

He’s almost fallen asleep again, despite Damian-induced numbness in his arm, when the pressure lifts; the sudden flare of pins and needles makes his eyes fly open. His throat’s too dry to yelp, but oh, he wants to.

Bruce tucks Damian into the chair, brushing a heavy hand over the boy’s hair when he stirs, drapes a rug over him. “I guess you’re not leaving,” he says, voice a familiar low rumble. “All right, son.” He rests a hip on the edge of Dick’s bed as Damian settles back into sleep.

Bruce! Bruce is _here_. Well, why wouldn’t he be? Dick can’t quite remember. He closes his eyes again against the dim light, the pain in his head, the damn pins and needles. He twitches his fingers helplessly. Bruce’s hands help rub the blood back into them. Dick stirs, fretful.

“No,” says Bruce, laying a hand on his shoulder, holding him still. “No, stay still. Just sleep, Dick, all right? It’s all right, partner.”

Wonder of wonders, a kiss brushed across his forehead, like he hasn’t got since he was ten or eleven; since the nightmares about his parents finally stopped.

“It’s all right.”

Awake, undrugged, rational Dick would have a wry (or possibly irritated) word or two to say about Bruce Wayne’s open affection towards his sons when they’re _unconscious_ , but right now that seems like way too much hassle.

“Take a sip, come on. You’ll feel better.”

A straw against his lips; he cracks his eyes open, takes a few sips. Closes his eyes again. Bruce comes around to the other side of the bed; there’s a noise like a thunderclap – no wait, that was just the chair moving. Dick flinches just the same. His father’s hand wraps around his. He can feel Damian’s thin fingers resting against his own on his other side.

“Go back to sleep.” Long pause. “Robin.”

Which of them is he talking to? To Damian, it’s a title. To Dick, it’s an endearment. (Maybe to both of them, then.)

He goes back to sleep.


End file.
